


The Fall

by blacktea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2781107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktea/pseuds/blacktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit of prose. A kind of a abstract look at the start of the war from Luna's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

Autumn. Red and brown and orange and yellow. It covers everything in its vibrant colors before they fade and become brittle, dead. Sometimes she wonders how a leaf feels. To grow and grow, green and supple. To spread out and drink warm all summer long. To drift, and float, and die.

"Luna!"

She turns her head. There is Ginny Weasley running through the leaves that are just silly enough not to realize they're dead. The red ones smiling gaily like the bounce in Ginny's hair.

And Ginny is not alone. Her brother Ronald is talking animatedly with Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Continued-To-Live. Hermione Granger trailing behind as she absently examines the world around her. Gryffindors they were. So different, and yet so completely the same. They were autumn blazing bold and defiant. For them winter will never come, it will always be red and brown and orange for them.

Gryffindor, Gryffindor, leaves falling and falling.

"Luna," Ginny says again, but her tone is different. Ginny stands not three feet away, but the red head can feel the distance. But she is made to forget when Luna smiles. The distance is not for Ginny to see, not that she would for very long. So Luna smiles and smiles and for a moment it is spring and anything is possible.

The sixth year Gryffindors arrive. They see her long blond hair and her wide blue eyes and her dirigible plum earrings, but they don't see her. Luna smiles for she can see them and autumn and that is how things are. 

"This is Luna Lovegood. Luna this is Harry, Ron and Hermione," Ginny says brightly. There are smiles and nods and acknowledgement. Harry before Ron before Hermione, Luna notices. One thing before another, always and always. It is always nice to be loved best.

Luna tells them about levarks that live under piles of fallen leaves and eat shoelaces, but their eyes wander and she knows the novelty has dimmed. They are not ready to believe in something unsure. They are the leaves falling to the ground. They see the ground, but they've never touched it, and they aren't sure it exists. All they've known is the air and sky and sun. They're falling, falling, to wherever.

Ginny smiles at her, but it's brittle like a leaf realizing it can die. The Gryffindors are ready to move again. Luna is far too still and they need to move and be and shine. So they away back to their castle and back to their tree.

There is no ground for them.

Of course, the days grow colder. The leaves pretend not to notice. Their colors aren't fading and they are not dying, but Luna pays them less and less attention. Ginny remains friendly, yet distant. Harry and Ron and Hermione: They flutter around like leaves in the wind, frantic and anxious. But she has seen autumn before and so she looks away from its fading pageantry, and its silly delusions of life.

The ground looms, but the wind is still blowing; Dumbledore has such a large fan.

She sees the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. They talk and laugh and be. Gryffindors before Ravenclaws before Hufflepuffs, she notices. Everyone before Slytherin. Someone must be loved least.

Where the Gryffindors are frantic, the Slytherins are poised and ready and waiting. For them winter has already come. They taste the ice and hear the quiet of the snow. They feel the cold grow and grow. Letters from home tell them where the wind is blowing. They try to be happy for the cold and chill.

But beneath their silver, there is green. They too long for the return of warmth.

They too miss the days when they did not know about dark and bad and evil.

No one likes to be loved least.

And then there is Draco Malfoy and he is pale and cold as winter. He opens the door and lets the cold storm in. No more can the ground be denied. Fall is over and it seems spring will never come.

And so the leaves disappear into the dark of the winter.


End file.
